Chapter Nine
Nyrene woke to silence and pain.
She ached all over and her mind was muzzy.
She was also alone for the first time since she’d woken to find herself in the car with Bennett Deverall. Lying on her side, she studied the room through her lashes. There was no relief from the darkness in the cabin.
It was still dark outside. She didn’t know how late, or early, it was, but the air had that odd, quiet feel that came in the hours just before dawn.
Easing her body up, she looked around, although she couldn’t make out much of anything in the blackness.
He wasn’t in there.
She didn’t know how she knew, but she was positive he wasn’t in there.
Slowly, she rose and made her way over to the window, looked out.
Her entire life had gone to shit in the past few days. The car wreck, the headaches, seeing him again in the ER and all those crazy, surreal images.
He’s not to blame for that, Nye. Maybe everything seems to be tied to him, but his life is just as fucked up as yours.
Yeah.
She’d give him that.
But having him nearby seemed to be a health hazard, not to mention all the associated problems that were likely to come from this.
He’d stolen numerous cars—was she considered to be party to that? Was she looking at jail time?
I need to get away from him. Turn myself in. Her brain slid sideways at that thought, though, the idea of going to the cops in Clary flooding her with foreboding.
Then I won’t go to Clary.
There were other cops. Other people she could talk to, weren’t there? If there was corruption going on, there had to be somebody she could tell.
She didn’t know. She couldn’t figure it out here when she was constantly on edge and waiting to see who would be the next person to point a gun at him.
She fumbled around the room, searching for her things. She found her purse, but her computer wasn’t in there. Her gut wrenched at the thought of leaving without it. She’d told Bennett her life was on that piece of equipment and she hadn’t lied.
But she wouldn’t die if she didn’t have her computer. Most of what she had could be restored. She backed up most of her work so it was waiting for her…if she was able to get out of this mess.
I have to leave without it.
No, she wouldn’t die without her computer, but she might die if she stayed here.
She did one more slow circuit around the room, wishing she’d taken the time to learn the layout of the place last night. Other than her, the cabin was empty and she had two choices…go out the front door or a window.
She chose a window, the one facing the back of the property, and she swallowed as she stared into the dark maw of endless night. Then, as carefully as she could, she lifted the blinds. The window resisted and she was sweating by the time she had it open. She gave one last look around and then slid outside.
The call of insects buzzing and the occasional night creature were the only sounds. She eased around the side of the small, square cabin, chancing a quick look at the front.
The truck he’d stolen was there.
She wished she had Bennett’s handy knack for hotwiring, but she didn’t. Wishes weren’t going to get her out of there, either, so she moved away from the cover of the house, sticking to the tree line. She darted a look at the truck. He wasn’t there. She shot a longer, harder look at the yard, such as it was, and he wasn’t there, either.
Where was he?
It doesn’t matter.
She hurried to the edge of the yard and started through the cover the trees offered. Every step she took sounded painfully loud and she ended up going at a snail’s pace as she listened for any noise, searched for any movement that she might pick up in the darkness.
How long had they been on the pocked and pitted gravel road that had led them here? She didn’t know. How long had she been walking? Eying the illuminated dial on her watch, she tried to figure it out. She had no idea.
She gave it ten more minutes and then she started to move faster. She had to get away—
An arm shot out and caught her, banded securely at her breasts, all but pinning her arms. A hand covered her mouth, stifling her scream.
Panicked, Nyrene drove her foot down and had the satisfaction of hearing a pained, masculine grunt as she connected with her attacker’s foot. She tried to bite his hand, but his grip practically clamped her jaw shut.
When her feet left the ground, she struggled harder. Swiping her nails across the forearm holding her, she tried to draw blood. A voice rasped in her ear, but she couldn’t understand it.
Get away!
Then, with a force that shocked her into silence, she was shoved up against a tree while a heavy male body pressed into hers. Some part of her recognized him even as he caught her wrists and pinned them overhead.
“Damn it, be still,” Dev snarled. Fury and fear pulsed inside him.
She’d been quiet, so quiet he’d barely heard her as he did another patrol through the darkness. Two hours of sleep hadn’t done much to take the edge off his exhaustion, but he’d gotten by on less, for longer, and he knew he couldn’t afford not to stay on alert.
Nyrene still struggled, the movements frenzied, and he caught her chin, tried to force her head up so she could see him.
“It’s me.”
Her voice, when it came, was incredulous. “Is that supposed to help me calm down, you son of a bitch?”
The comment threw him off guard, but only for a minute—what had he expected her to say? Oh, hey…I was just out here looking for you? Muffling a curse, he racked his brain, searching for something, anything he could say that would ease the tension in her body, the fear that all but bled from her.
“What are you doing?” he asked softly.
Nyrene was so taut, he thought she might snap. The silence hummed between them and then finally, she said, “I wanted to get out of here. Is that so hard to get? I’m terrified. You’ve got people shooting at you. Ever since you showed up in my life, everything around me has gone crazy…including me. You scared me to death when you showed up at my house. You think I’m involved with…hell, I don’t know you, but unless my book club or my critique group is more dangerous than I thought, then you are barking up the wrong tree. You’re stealing cars and…and…”
She stuttered to a stop and he heard her swallow.
Weary, he said, “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to…” Absently, he rubbed his thumb against the soft skin of one of her wrists. “Have I hurt you?”
She didn’t answer and then she jerked her wrists. “This doesn’t exactly feel good.”
He was a monstrous son of a bitch because his immediate response was…Yes, it does.
She felt good. The lush curves of her body pillowing his, the scent of her hair and skin—honeysuckle and oranges—flooding his head. He could feel his body responding.
He eased back, shifting his lower body away. “I’m going to let you go, but don’t take off. Please don’t make me have to run you down.”
With a soft, broken sigh, she slumped. He couldn’t make out much of anything in the nonexistent light, save for the shape of her face, the curve of her cheek, but he didn’t have to see her to know he’d put that dread back in her eyes.
“Why are you doing this?” she whispered. “Why can’t you just let me go?”
Because you’re in as much danger as I am now. “Come on,” he said tersely. “We need to get inside.”
When she didn’t immediately move, Dev clenched his jaw. If she fought, he’d have to scare her. Again. But she moved away from the tree. He could make out her form, just barely, and the slumped set of her shoulders, how she moved with her head bowed. It made him that much more disgusted with himself.
“Look,” he said, keeping his voice low. He faltered for the words, but they never came. “Never mind.”
They walked. She’d gone maybe an eighth of a mile—not very far, but in the dark, unfamiliar surroundings, she’d moved quickly enough. But, once out of the trees, walking on the sad excuse of a road, they moved much quicker.
They were almost to the clearing where the cabin sat when he froze.
A low noise came to him in the night. The faint hum of a motor on the road, probably almost half a mile away. The only reason he even pegged it as wrong was because he’d spent too many nights out here and he knew every sound—the way the wind could whisper or moan through the trees, and the music of the surrounding wildlife.
As he stood there, it grew faintly louder.
“In the trees,” he said, forcing the words out. “Now.”
“But…”
“Do it!” He caught her arm with his left hand, drawing the Glock M17 from his holster with his right. They moved into the trees, deeper and deeper until he trusted the cover. He could still see the gravel road. Just barely, but it was enough. With one eye on her and the other on the road, he waited.
“What are—”
“Quiet!”
Not even thirty seconds later, he heard her startled inhalation of breath.
She’d heard it now, too.
“This is why I wanted to leave,” she muttered. “I knew something was wrong. You’re going to get me killed.”
“No.” He hoped he wasn’t lying. “Now shut up.”
The car stopped before it reached the clearing and that filled Dev with more trepidation. He hadn’t heard them leave the car, but they had—he just knew it. Fuck, they were quiet. Leaning in, he pressed his mouth to her ear. “Don’t make a sound, Nyrene. And don’t move.”
Her only response was a single jerk of her head. It would have to be enough. He needed his hands free. Carefully, he eased away, ears straining as he listened to the night. The insects had gone quiet and the low murmur of the other night creatures had ceased.
They were on their way in.
He eased one foot forward, checking the ground before he shifted his weight, then another. His goal was the big cypress that lay between him and the road. He had just barely reached it when he saw them. One of them had a penlight out, just a thin sliver of illumination sweeping the ground.
He counted three, watched as they passed, and listened.
Nothing. But his gut told him that was all. He inched away from the tree. It seemed it took hours to cross a single foot and he was soaked with sweat, his muscles locked by the time he had reached the edge of the trees. There was probably a good ten yards between him and Nyrene, and barely twenty between him and the men who had crouched behind his truck.
He held his Glock in a two-handed grip, watching as they fanned out. One went left. One went right. The other crept up the stairs.
The low, frenzied curse came before he expected it.
One of the men came running out from behind the house. “She’s not here.” It was grimly delivered, the words soft, just barely loud enough to carry to where Dev waited in the trees.
Fury gnawed at him. They were looking for Nyrene. She’d lied to him.
“What do you want to do?”
It was the same speaker.
He hadn’t moved an inch.
Somebody else had, though. Dev felt somebody approaching as clearly as if the bastard had tugged some invisible wire.
“Man, she ain’t here. The truck’s cold. They probably ditched it here and moved. Somehow, she’s staying ahead—”
“Silence!” The word came out too close to Dev and it came in a low, controlled order. Not good…
Dev forced himself to relax and then he moved out from behind the tree. His target was the shadow that was darker than the other. He aimed at the chest and pulled the trigger.
He dove into a crouch, moving before he even waited to see if his target had gone down.
“Shit!” It came in a low, sharp hiss and Dev eased out from behind the tree, peering into the night.
There was another shadow now, closer, coming toward him at a sharp angle, but this one’s movements were slower, less certain. The man didn’t even pause by the body, just kept moving.
Dev took aim, squeezed.
The man moved at the exact same time.
Baring his teeth, Dev went to move.
And couldn’t.
Something flung him up against the tree while a vise closed around his neck. He swung upward and encountered nothing.
“Where is the girl?”
The pressure on his throat eased. Dev’s mind whirled to process what was happening.
Nobody was touching him. No thing was touching him.
“Don’t make me ask again,” the man said, moving closer. The pressure around Dev’s throat intensified, as if in warning, and then it relaxed, yet again.
“Fuck…” Dev managed to get that much out before he was slammed back up against the tree.
A sharp, shrill scream filled the night air. For one moment, he had control of his body again and he jerked up the Glock as the second man rushed into the trees. He squeezed and felt the wet of blood gush over him as his attacker fell into him. Out of reaction, Dev caught the body and used it as a shield, backing away.
“Pete!”
It was the talker again.
“Pete! Where are you?”
Dev didn’t know if he should be grateful for the man’s idiocy or annoyed. The man stumbled right past him and Dev eased the body he held—Pete, he guessed—to the ground and then straightened. Faint, watery light was starting to filter in through the trees, the first glimpse of dawn.
It wasn’t a lot of light, but Dev didn’t need much.
He aimed—and this time, a scream filled the air as the man went down, blood gushing from his leg.
Dev strode toward him.
“Don’t touch him!”
Nyrene’s panicked shout was filled with rage and other emotions he couldn’t decipher. When she came stumbling out of the dark, he caught her. “That son of a bitch is here to kill me. But sure, why not? I won’t touch him.” He stormed forward, his hands already itching.
“Don’t!” Nyrene shoved in between them. “Don’t,” she said again, her voice panting. “He’s not here for you.”
“Yeah. I got that memo.” Dev shoved past her and bent down, flipping the injured man over onto his stomach, ignoring the scream of pain. Pulling his cuffs from his belt, he slapped one on the man’s wrist. “He’s here for you. Don’t know where they’re taking you or who sent them but maybe it’s time—”
His fingers caught the man’s other wrist. Cold.
His skin was—
“Help me roll over,” the man said, his voice calm.
“Yeah,” Dev said. He did just that—still touching the man’s wrist. He didn’t even blink when the man moved, swift and smooth, and then their positions were reversed. His wrist was held. The icy cold grip of the man’s hand was bone jarring, enough to make his teeth ache. But he couldn’t pull away.
“Give me your gun, pal.”
Dev looked down, stared at the Glock M17 he still held. “Give you the—”
“No!”
No. Yeah, that sounded good. Did he want to turn over his weapon? That didn’t seem right.
“Come on. Turn it over.”
He lifted his hand.
Something hit him.
Blinking, he found himself lying flat on his back and staring up at the sky. Blood roared in his ears. His arm ached from the cold, and in the next moment his mind cleared. Sharpened.
“What the—”
“Get up.” Nyrene’s voice was thin and shaky.
He jerked upright.
“That…” Dev shook his head. “That… What the—”
Nyrene’s gaze jumped to his. “I don’t know what.”
He looked at the Glock, at the man who was now trying to inch back. He took the weapon and leveled it.
Maybe I am going crazy.
Nyrene slicked her damp hands down the sides of her scrub pants. The scrubs were wrinkled, and now that they were in the cabin, she could see how filthy they’d gotten during her aborted escape.
Her heart slammed hard against her ribs and it had nothing to do with the fact that Dev was busy tying an injured man to a chair. No, her heart was slamming because of what she’d seen playing out in her head.
In her head, she’d watched as Dev turned over his gun.
The man had told him to turn around and when Dev asked why, the man had laughed. So I can shoot you in the back of the head. I do that, then leave the gun with Pete—he’s the one they’ll pin your murder on. I don’t need cops chasing me.
Then she’d seen Dev actually lift his hand to give the son of a bitch his weapon.
“This isn’t happening.” She rubbed her hands up and down her face. “This isn’t happening.”
“Yeah. Keep saying that,” Bennett said, his voice hard. “Let me know if it works.”
She swallowed as he crouched in front of the stranger. “You…” Bennett said, hitting him on the knee. “I’m going to ask you some questions. Every time you lie—”
“What?” The man sneered. “You’ll shoot me?”
“You only wish.”
She sucked in a shocked breath as Bennett struck, driving a fist into the man’s gut. He crumpled and Bennett moved back.
Both of them stared at Bennett with a mix of curiosity and fear as he grabbed something from his boot. She saw the flash of light off metal.
“You ain’t…” Now the man’s voice wobbled. “You ain’t going to use that.”
“Yeah. I am.”
Nyrene saw blood.
She was a nurse. Blood didn’t bother her. Puke didn’t bother her. Plenty of disgusting things didn’t affect her, but the sight of the blood streaming down the man’s cheek made her start to shake.
“Now…you’re going to talk.” Bennett flipped a chair around and straddled it, rocking forward to stare at the bound man. “Start with your name, then tell me what’s going on—why you’re here, how you found us, why you want Nyrene. All of it.”